


you’d be surprised how i feel it now

by seungsiks (galacticnik)



Category: UP10TION
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, mentions of Jinhyuk dating other people off screen, some Up10tion members + Byungchan show up for like 0.5 seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticnik/pseuds/seungsiks
Summary: Jinhyuk accepts every love confession that comes his way, and Wooseok is starting to not be okay with that.
Relationships: Kim Wooseok | Wooshin/Lee Jinhyuk
Comments: 12
Kudos: 106





	you’d be surprised how i feel it now

**Author's Note:**

> this was a drabble that spiraled _way_ out of control. i'm genuinely ashamed but i guess it be like that sometimes.

Wooseok is not _consciously_ trying to eavesdrop. If anything, Jinhyuk and the pretty girl who pulled him aside in the middle of their lunch should be more aware of their surroundings and volume while having sensitive conversations. Staring down at the contents of his neatly packed lunchbox, he frowns and makes a perfunctory attempt at drowning them out just to be polite. It doesn’t work. 

“The truth is, I’ve liked you since freshman orientation,” the girl says, her voice quivering with nerves. “You’ve always been really nice to me whenever we have a class together, and I think you’re really handsome, and—“ She breaks off, maybe feeling like she’s said too much. “I want to get to know you better.” 

“Aha,” Jinhyuk’s answering chuckle is easy and bright, a gift freely given as thanks. “Really? I’m so honored.” His sincerity shines through his tone, and Woosoek can almost imagine a pleased, albeit bashful, smile on his face. “I’d like that. Do you want to go out with me, then?” 

“Oh!” Judging from her surprise, the girl hadn’t expected this response. “I’d love to—“

With a sigh, Wooseok tunes the rest of the conversation out and picks at his fried rice. He’s chosen to eat behind the old arts building because people rarely come here—he likes to consider it his own private spot on campus, one he’s willing to share with only a select few. It’s annoying to think it might’ve been compromised by a girl seeking to date Jinhyuk. He wonders if it would be rude to ask her to leave. Or ask Jinhyuk to ask her to leave. Or ask Jinhyuk to leave and take his new girlfriend with him. 

While he’s contemplating how to proceed, Jinhyuk returns and flops down onto the grass beside Wooseok. His cheeks are flushed pink, but he makes no mention of the confession as he reaches over to swipe a piece of pickled radish from Wooseok’s lunchbox. His own tinfoil-wrapped kimbap lies unopened and forgotten by Wooseok’s leg. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to abandon you to eat lunch alone like a loser.” He pops the radish in his mouth and stops. “Hey, this is really good?” 

“It’s not a big deal.” He doesn’t bother telling Jinhyuk to stop stealing his food. Wooseok doubts Jinhyuk would listen anyway. Pushing a few more pieces of pickled radish towards the edge of the box, he tips it towards Jinhyuk, who happily accepts his meager offering. “How did you respond to her?” Wooseok already knows, of course, but decides to keep up the pretense of having not listened in on the two like some kind of creep. 

Jinhyuk’s eyes narrow in confusion. “For…?”

“It was pretty obvious she was going to confess to you.” 

“Oh! That. Well.” Jinhyuk rubs the back of his neck and looks away, the flush on his cheeks deepening. “Uh, yeah. She was really sweet about it, so I ended up asking her out.” Even the tips of his ears are turning red. The corners of Wooseok’s mouth twitch at the sight. He’s never really seen this side of Jinhyuk before, and it’s… cute. “I guess we’re dating now?” he continues uncertainly, and Wooseok’s smile slides off his face.

“Do you… have feelings for her?” He’s not sure why he asks. It isn’t like him to care about these kinds of things, but maybe his curiosity stems from having inadvertently heard the beginning of their story. 

“I don’t really know her well enough to say yes or no,” Jinhyuk admits. “We’ve had like, two classes together since first year and she let me borrow her notes a couple of times, but I don’t think we talked much outside of that.” Wooseok’s chopsticks are halfway to his mouth when Jinhyuk intercepts the bite, grinning cheekily as Wooseok fixes him with a glare. “But I _could_ like her, I think.” Lacing his fingers behind his head, Jinhyuk lays back in the grass and trains his eyes upward. “Is that that weird?” 

“Not really.” Wooseok’s own method of dealing with confessions to turn them down politely but coldly. He has a template for rejections now, and rearranges the words just enough to sound personalized for each individual. “I just didn’t expect that from you.” He’s always thought of Jinhyuk as more of a romantic—the kind of person who’ll only date someone he’s genuinely in love with. 

Jinhyuk shrugs gracelessly. “It’s nice to be wanted by someone,” he says by way of an explanation, sneaking a glance at Wooseok out of the corner of his eye, as if gauging his reaction. 

“I suppose so.”

“You haven’t felt like that.” It’s a statement rather than a question, but Jinhyuk’s eyes are gently probing nonetheless. Wooseok finishes the last of his meal and puts his lunchbox away, deliberately not looking at Jinhyuk. 

“The people I want rarely reciprocate the feeling, so no, I can’t say that I know if it’s nice or not.” 

The silence that descends between them is thick enough to choke on, and Wooseok is about to add something flippant to diffuse the tension when—

“Oh,” Jinhyuk says, suddenly looking very grave. He unlaces his fingers and, after a moment of deliberation, reaches out to grab Wooseok’s hand and tugs him down to his level so he’s laying flat on the dewy grass. His shirt will be stained after this, Wooseok thinks grumpily, and almost misses Jinhyuk’s quiet, contemplative hum. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why are _you_ sorry?”

Idly, Jinhyuk brings the hand still entwined with Wooseok’s to rest on top of his stomach. It’s an innocent, thoughtless gesture; eyes trained on the sky, he plays with Wooseok’s fingers. His shirt’s fabric is thin and he radiates heat and every time he shifts, Wooseok’s gaze is drawn to the thin strip of tanned skin exposed between the hem of Jinhyuk’s shirt and his pants. “You deserve more than that,” Jinhyuk says, as Wooseok is attempting to determine what the lurch in his chest signifies. “You deserve to have someone look at you like you’re the only thing they can see.” 

Once again, Jinhyuk’s sincerity shines through in his words. Wooseok wonders if it’s exhausting, being someone who cares about everyone so much. He closes his eyes and lets the wind caress his face. “It’s fine,” he lies. “I don’t let myself want anymore.” 

* * *

Less than a week later, he finds Jinhyuk slumped on a bench outside the engineering building, bleary-eyed and listlessly chewing on a melon bun. His shirt is unkempt and his hair is sticking up all over the place, like he hadn’t bothered to run a brush through it after waking up. But Jinhyuk doesn’t seem to realize or care, just stares out into space as the campus thrums with life around him. 

It’s strange to see Jinhyuk look so obviously upset; he’s a cheerful person most of the time, and even when he isn’t feeling great, he has enough presence of mind to fake it. Wooseok doesn’t like seeing him like this—like something’s taken the wind out of his sails, his smile crushed under the weight of prolonged unhappiness. 

He sinks down on the bench beside Jinhyuk and tentatively touches his shoulder. Jinhyuk jumps a little before turning to him with dejection. “We broke up,” he announces, although Wooseok doesn’t ask. “I couldn’t even make our relationship last for _one week_. Isn’t that pathetic?” 

“A little,” Wooseok allows. This explains both everything and nothing. “What happened?” 

“She just,” Jinhyuk takes another unenthusiastic bite of his bun, deep in thought. “We weren’t really compatible, I guess? But she didn’t want to try either. I don’t know. Maybe it’s better to end it early if it’s not working out, but…” He chews with his eyes closed, his movements sluggish under the summer sun. Wooseok studies the way the light hits his face out of the corner of his eye and wonders what kind of person wouldn’t be willing to try for Jinhyuk. “I’m not heartbroken or anything. It just kind of sucks.” His eyes fly open. “A lot.” 

“Did you like her that much?” For a five-day relationship, Jinhyuk seems disproportionately upset. 

“No! No. I guess—I don’t know.” Jinhyuk slouches down and covers his face, embarrassed. “You’re going to laugh at me.” 

“I won’t.”

“You will, but that’s okay.” He lowers his hands and takes a deep breath, eyes fixed on the half-eaten bun. “I just feel a little lonely now, you know? Even if it was only for five days, I liked knowing someone was thinking about me. I liked knowing I could lean on someone if I needed to.” 

Wooseok doesn’t feel like laughing. “Well,” he says, shifting closer. He offers Jinhyuk his hand, palm-up, and after a moment, Jinhyuk accepts it and rests his head on Wooseok’s shoulder. “I won’t date you, but I’m here.” _So don’t feel lonely_ , he wants to add, but he feels like Jinhyuk already knows what he wants to say and refrains. 

Jinhyuk smiles, a little sadly. “You are, huh?” He resumes munching on his melon bun, head still on Wooseok’s shoulder, their hands still linked. 

Wooseok feels a small, irrational stab of hatred for the pretty girl who had Jinhyuk for a week only to throw him away like a piece of garbage. _I wouldn’t_ , he thinks. Not that it matters. 

* * *

Within two weeks, Jinhyuk receives another confession, this time by a self-assured girl nearly as tall as Wooseok who doesn’t seem to care whether he overhears them or not. Wooseok lingers on the outskirts of their conversation, not saying anything except, “Better luck this time,” when Jinhyuk returns, apple-cheeked and glowing. 

He and the girl date for a month and a half before breaking up, a fact Wooseok learns only when he finds Jinhyuk still at his seat after class ends, making no attempt to pack up. 

“We have club today,” Wooseok says. ‘Club’ consists of Wooseok and Jinhyuk watching anime on Jinhyuk’s laptop in an empty classroom, since Wooseok’s has been laggy ever since he downloaded League of Legends again to play with his friends. “Are you planning to come or just mope here till the next class starts?”

“Mope,” Jinhyuk answers, sighing heavily, and Wooseok decides that this won’t do.

It’s a struggle to drag him out of the classroom and to the cafe next to their campus. Club can wait—first, Wooseok figures Jinhyuk can use something to lift his spirits. The desserts—especially sundaes—here are some of Jinhyuk’s favorite, and Wooseok sends him to snag a table while he places their order. 

“There’s a two-for-one lovers special today,” says Jinwook, pointing around the chalkboard declaring the promotion in bold pink letters. “Four scoops in one bowl to share, and Sooil will probably make a joke about your relationship status while delivering it to your table.” 

It seems in bad taste. “Just two separate sundaes are fine.”

“You sure?” Jinwook scratches his cheek. “You’re basically getting the same thing. The lovers’ special is just cheaper—“

“Just the sundaes.”

He finds Jinhyuk seated outside on the patio, gazing forlornly at the chalkboard sign outside, a duplicate of the one by the counter. “Wooseok, there’s a lovers’ special today,” he says, gesturing limply. 

“Yeah, because it’s Jinwook and Sooil’s anniversary,” Wooseok says. He has no idea if this is true or not, but Jinhyuk accepts it at face value and even congratulates Sooil when he drops off their order. “Anyway,” Wooseok prompts, as Jinhyuk continues to stare at the sign, his ice cream beginning to melt in front of him. “Eat your ice cream before it melts.” 

“I’m too sad to use my arms.” Jinhyuk looks pleadingly at him. “Feed me?”

“No.” 

Jinhyuk laughs at his immediate response, but there’s a twinge of sadness to his expression, and Wooseok relents, holding a spoon to Jinhyuk’s mouth. Jinhyuk blinks, then turns red. “You don’t actually have to—“

Wooseok shoves the spoon in his mouth, none too gently. “Say ‘ _ah_.’”

“Woofok, fhis if really foutchin—“ Jinhyuk’s fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him from shoving another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. His grip is gentle, but firm, and Wooseok feels something unidentifiable shoot down his spine, liquid ice and heat at the same time. It settles at his base, quietly smoldering as Jinhyuk smiles wryly at him. “This is really touching,” Jinhyuk tries again. “But how are you supposed to eat your own ice cream if you’re feeding me?”

Why is _Wooseok_ blushing? He yanks his hand away. “Then stop being a baby.” Taking a pointed spoonful of his own ice cream, he watches Jinhyuk gleefully dig into his own bowl before venturing into dangerous territory. “What happened this time?” 

Jinhyuk’s movements still. Wooseok watches the slow drip of his melting ice cream hit the bottom of the bowl. Head lifted, Jinhyuk opens his mouth to respond, but then his eyes catch on something on Wooseok’s face and the lines on his face smooth into a soft smile. “There’s something on your nose.” Before Wooseok can react, Jinhyuk leans over to wipe a smidge of whipped cream from his face and licks it off his finger. 

The fine hairs on his arms rise. “That’s disgusting,” he chokes out. 

“Heh.” Jinhyuk looks pleased with himself. 

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Jinhyuk taps his spoon against the side of the bowl. “I don’t want to ruin the mood,” he says, and while a part of Wooseok wants to push, he decides to let him have this. 

“Okay, you win.”

Flushed with triumph, Jinhyuk grins, and the subtle tension in Wooseok’s shoulder recedes when he sees it reach his eyes. He sneaks a spoonful of Wooseok’s ice cream and sticks it into his mouth, his gaze wandering past—back to the signboard and its cheerful pink writing. He looks enchanted. “We should’ve just gotten the lovers’ special,” he says. 

Wooseok looks at him, mouth pressed in a thin line, unsure of what’s going on in his mind. But he doesn’t elaborate, and eventually Wooseok says, “Don’t be stupid.”

Jinhyuk chuckles sheepishly. “Right? I knew you’d agree.” He turns back to what remains of his sundae and inhales it so quickly that Wooseok gives him half of his, wondering what he was supposed to have agreed with. 

* * *

The next person to confess their feelings to Jinhyuk is a guy in his softball club, and Wooseok is a little surprised at how readily Jinhyuk accepts his feelings and offers the promise of his own in return. It’s weird to see Jinhyuk suddenly at the center of so much attention. Or maybe this has always been a thing and Wooseok’s only been paying attention to it ever since he accidentally eavesdropped on that confession. 

It doesn’t really bother him. Unsettles, a little—not that Jinhyuk is into guys as well as girls, but rather that Jinhyuk is highly in demand and Wooseok _didn’t know._

He supposes he can see the appeal, broadly. Jinhyuk is handsome and charming, but not in the unapproachable, cold way Wooseok is sometimes accused of being. He’s like an excitable dog, warm and comfortable and friendly with no self awareness and no pretension. Other points to add to his resume: he’s polite, generous, and really good at winning over parents, kids, and animals without even trying. He puts his whole heart into everything he does without holding back, whether it’s sports or relationships or the random favor a neighborhood auntie asks him to do. 

He has large, soft hands that wrap around Wooseok’s with care, like he’s holding something precious. His brown eyes sparkle in the sunlight and look right through to the core of him. When he laughs, Wooseok’s throat closes up, because it’s something like the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

So _yes_ , Wooseok can see why people want to date Jinhyuk. 

And yet, none of the relationships last very long—two months is the maximum Wooseok is aware of, but never more than that. He doesn’t understand how Jinhyuk isn’t tired of it, why he keeps giving people chances to get close to him that they rightly don’t deserve—or better yet, just say no to the confessions that come his way. As his best friend, Wooseok knows Jinhyuk doesn’t like to deny others anything, but he’ll teach him how if he has to. 

“I don’t like making people sad,” Jinhyuk says, sprawled on the floor of Wooseok’s apartment, balancing a softball on his forehead. “I mean, confessing your feelings to someone is a big deal. I want to respect that and take it seriously—so even if I don’t like them, I try to see if I _can_.”

“Is it really that…” Wooseok trails off and squints at his coffee machine. “Is it really that scary?”

“Making yourself vulnerable is always scary.” The softball rolls down Jinhyuk’s face and he snatches it up, hefting it in his hand. “It’s like, here’s my heart, feel free to break it.” He pauses and stares at the seams on the ball. “I don’t want to be the one to break it.”

Wooseok wonders how Jinhyuk can say all these things and actually mean them. Wonders, too, if Jinhyuk ever had to muster up the courage to confess to someone only to have his heart broken? Is that where the consideration comes from? Why does the thought make him feel so crappy? “I suppose it works out for you,” he says, shaking his head slightly and picking up his mug of steaming coffee before turning back to Jinhyuk. “You said you liked to feel wanted too.”

Jinhyuk laughs. “I do!” He bounces the ball on his chest with a distant expression. “I really do. Maybe I’m actually really desperate for romance?” Tucking the ball under his arm, he rolls onto his stomach. “All I know is, I’m always looking for—“ He stops suddenly, swallows. “Maybe we should leave it there.” 

His hair is mussed from rolling around on the floor, and his lips look very red from the kitchen, like he’s been biting on them, and when he looks at Wooseok with a rueful grin, the way his eyes crinkle make his knees feel weak.

 _I want you_ , Wooseok thinks, then pales and takes a long sip of his coffee. “Probably,” he says. It burns all the way down his throat. 

* * *

He and Jinhyuk have been friends since middle school, ever since they’d shown up to an anime club meeting and discovered they (plus a sunbae who stopped attending meetings after a month) were the only two people there. Now they’re the only two members of their university’s anime club (not counting Changhyun, who only shows up sporadically), so not much has changed. 

Except that Wooseok is now nursing what feels like a big fat crush on his best friend. In the months it takes him to come to terms with this, he watches Jinhyuk’s latest relationship fizzle out and names the feeling in his chest for what it is: envy, and vindication. This crush doesn’t feel new—it’s like slipping into a favorite shirt he found at the back of his closet and thinking, _ah_ when it still fits perfectly. 

It doesn’t really unnerve him, wanting Jinhyuk. It feels inevitable, like he was always meant to end up here at some point, like this is a natural conclusion to their relationship arc. 

It also feels a little bit like a great cosmic joke, because Jinhyuk is dating a nice girl from Wooseok’s creative writing seminar as of two days ago and he’d confided in Wooseok after class, with hopeful eyes, that he had a really good feeling about this. 

“She reminds me a little bit of you,” Jinhyuk laughed, and then looked uncertain. “Just—vibes, you know?”

Wooseok refrained from commenting on it, simply said he needed to get home and nursed the jealousy simmering in his stomach during the walk back to his apartment. He spent the rest of his evening watching shoujo anime and eating ice cream straight from the carton. 

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with this feeling. Hold it in, for now—he’s not eager to ruin Jinhyuk’s chance at finding something with the girl, even if he's sure it won't pan out. But after that? Should he confess his feelings, forcing Jinhyuk to accept because he doesn’t want to break Wooseok’s heart? Isn’t that fucked up? Wooseok doesn’t want Jinhyuk to _try_ to see if he can like him. What if he can’t?

He’d been honest when he told Jinhyuk that the people he wanted never wanted him back. There was Minsoo, who’d been straight all three years of high school. That didn’t hurt as much as his ill-advised crush on Seungyoun, who liked guys (just not Wooseok). And then Seungwoo, whom he dated for a week before Seungwoo sat him down at an obscenely cheerful restaurant to say, _I’m sorry, but I think I’m in love with someone else._

But he survived those heartbreaks, such as they were, and he feels like he can survive more if he really steels himself to. But he doesn’t want to survive Jinhyuk—even if he could. The thought of Jinhyuk not wanting him back is _painful_ , like a red-hot brand burning into his skin. It stays long after he’s decided to leave things as they are, a reminder of what’s at stake.

Wooseok wishes, miserably, that he’d never come to this realization, and that Jinhyuk would magically grow ugly and mean overnight so he won’t have to see people throw themselves at him anymore. 

Unlikely on both accounts. 

* * *

Jinhyuk and the girl from Wooseok’s seminar last almost three months, but Wooseok eventually finds Jinhyuk sitting cross-legged on the ground in an empty third floor hallway, the back of his head pressed against the wall. He sighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and barely looks up when Wooseok crouches down in front of him and pokes the centre of his forehead. “Do I even have to ask?”

“No.” Laughing humourlessly, Jinhyuk uncrosses his legs and stretches them out so Wooseok can neatly fit beside him. Their shoulders are pressed together even though there’s a lot of room, but Wooseok’s come to appreciate the little moments where he can steal some of Jinhyuk’s warmth for himself. “This one hurt, though,” Jinhyuk continues. “A lot more than I thought it would.”

There are dark circles under his eyes. Wooseok traces their outline with a finger, and Jinhyuk’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a tired exhale. Wooseok keeps his finger pressed to skin, counting the beats of his heart. Eventually, he asks, “Why do you keep jumping into relationships if they’re just going to turn out like this?”

Jinhyuk stiffens. His eyebrows draw together as he straightens up, the corners of his mouth tugging downwards. “So I shouldn’t do things just because there’s a chance they might end badly?” He sounds annoyed, and it’s so unlike him that Wooseok flounders. 

“Well.” He doesn’t know how to say it, really. It’s not like he’s asking Jinhyuk to give up, or judging him for refusing to. It’s just getting harder to watch him be so dejected, to carry these hurts with him. He wants Jinhyuk to smile and love happily and be loved in return. He just doesn’t know how to make that happen. 

Jinhyuk pushes his hand away. “Gotcha,” he says, still sounding oddly irritated. 

Wooseok sits back and digs his teeth into his bottom lip. “Just date me instead,” he says. “If you really want to be with someone.” His mouth is dry, but he doesn’t stumble on any of the words. That’s a victory, at least. 

Halfway in the process of standing up, Jinhyuk stops and looks down at him with a tilt of his head. His expression is unreadable for a moment, then cracks into a grin. “Good one,” he laughs, but Wooseok notices the strain around his eyes that makes it clear he doesn’t find it particularly funny. He wasn’t meant to—Wooseok _wasn’t_ joking—but he’s reluctant to admit as much before Jinhyuk departs for his next class with a terse wave. 

“Yeah,” Wooseok says to the empty hallway. “Haha.” 

* * *

It’s later, much later, that the full gravity of the situation hits him. “I think I got rejected,” Wooseok tells Changhyun during their study session at his apartment. He’s stunned. Humiliated, a little, but mostly stunned that it could’ve turned the way it did. 

Changhyun drops his pen. “Are you—like—are you _sure_?” 

“He thought I was joking.” And didn’t laugh. In some ways, this is worse. 

“I mean.” Changhyun picks up his pen again and scratches out a music note on his sheet. “You expressing any kind of feelings is very laughable—“ Wooseok rolls his eyes. “But try again? Like, in a way that makes it clear what you mean.” 

It’s solid advice. He just doesn’t want to take it. “No.” Wooseok closes his readings and leans back in his chair. “I don’t think I will.” 

Changhyun gives him a look that clearly says, _it’s your funeral_ , but doesn’t press. 

* * *

Jinhyuk avoids him for a grand total of one day before ending up outside of Wooseok’s classroom with a cream-coloured box in his hands. “I have cake,” he announces, when Wooseok exits the room and nearly runs into him. “And I’m sorry for before. I wasn’t really, uh, feeling great, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Guilt squirms in his stomach. It’s always like this—Jinhyuk, apologizing before Wooseok has the chance to, even though Wooseok was the one in the wrong. Normally, it makes him feel magnanimous to accept, but right now he just feels vaguely shitty. His grip on the strap of his bag tightens as he studies Jinhyuk’s hopeful expression. “What’re you talking about?” he says, with a small smile that means _don’t worry about it._

Jinhyuk blinks, then relaxes. “Thanks, Wooseok.” 

“What flavor is the cake?” 

“Uh.” Jinhyuk holds the box up to peer at the label on the bottom. “I just grabbed the first thing I saw, really, but I think it’s a mocha opera cake?” He looks at it dubiously. “I don’t know what any of that means, but—”

“Jinhyuk!” His words are cut off by an excited voice, and both turn to see Byungchan weaving through the post-class crowd to reach them. “Jinhyuk, can I talk to you for a second?” His face is a little red and Wooseok is sure it isn’t from the exertion. His heart sinks. “Alone?” Byungchan adds, after a pause, his eyes flicking over to Wooseok. 

“Sure?” Jinhyuk gingerly passes the box off to Wooseok and points at the door to the stairwell. “We can talk there, if you want.” Byungchan nods quickly and yanks the door open, and Wooseok stares after him with wounded eyes. _Et tu, Brute?_ “Be right back,” Jinhyuk says, drawing his attention back. He gives Wooseok a mock-glare. “Don’t eat all the cake without me!” 

“As if I would.” 

With a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, Jinhyuk is gone. The door swings shut behind him, and Wooseok resigns himself to the fate of pretending to be happy about Jinhyuk and Byungchan’s new relationship when they return. It’s easier when Jinhyuk’s admirers are nameless faces that blur together. Wooseok can pretend they don’t exist that way. Harder to do that when it’s friends, people he knows and likes. 

He stares glumly at his shoes until Jinhyuk comes back. His expression is strangely pensive, and Wooseok realizes with a jolt that Byungchan isn’t with him. Maybe Wooseok read the situation wrong and Byungchan wasn’t going to confess his feelings for Jinhyuk? But he was so sure… Before Wooseok can drive himself crazy, he asks, “Hey, what did he want?” 

“Huh?” Jinhyuk starts, then rubs the back of his neck. “He, uh, said he had…” His face heats up. “F—feelings for me? And that he wanted to date.” 

“Oh.” Wooseok thought so. But then—

“I said no.” 

His mind screeches to a halt. “What? _Why_?” 

Jinhyuk shrugs. “I just,” he begins, then falls silent. “Should I have said yes?” His eyes meet Wooseok’s. Something passes between them, too alien to name. “You’d be okay with me saying yes?” 

This is unfair. This is cruel and _unfair_ and Wooseok doesn’t want to answer. Shouldn’t answer, because it’s not up to him, but maybe he’s feeling particularly venomous about this whole thing and still hurt from the pseudo-rejection earlier and he just wanted to eat cake with Jinhyuk and now he stupidly feels like he can’t. “Well, what I think’s never stopped you from dating half the campus before.” 

Jinhyuk flinches. “Oh yeah?” he says, strangled. 

The cake box feels heavy in his hands, as if to implore him to stop talking. But Wooseok is not good at following direction, or good at knowing when to stop. “Don’t use me as an excuse because you’re tired.” 

“Maybe I _am_ tired.” Jinhyuk’s eyes are too bright, his voice low and fierce. His face is locked in a tight grimace, equal parts angry and pained. “Maybe I’m tired because no matter who I date, they never help me get over you.”

Wooseok almost drops the box. “What?” 

“What?” 

“You said—” He must’ve heard that wrong. “ _Get over me?_ When were you ever on me?” 

“I,” and Jinhyuk’s eyes widen as realization sets in, his expression dissolving into sheer panic as he scrambles backwards. “I have to go,” he says, hands curling into fists. “I—I have to—” He turns, nearly trips, then sprints down the hallway, leaving Wooseok standing there with a box of cake and an unintended confession in his hands. 

Wooseok’s heart pounds, and pounds, and _pounds_.

* * *

Twilight is a time for self-reflection, or something. 

Wooseok sits on the steps outside his apartment building with a bag of convenience store snacks beside him and a can of beer tucked between his knees. His apartment’s felt suffocating since the afternoon. The cream-colored box of cake is tucked in his fridge, and he’s not eager to see it again. It’ll only make him think of Jinhyuk and the thinly veiled terror in his eyes at his blurted confession. 

But he’s thinking of Jinhyuk anyway. It’s impossible to avoid him. He takes over Wooseok’s mind completely, shoving out any unrelated distractions. 

It doesn’t feel real, but Jinhyuk said it, clear as day. _They never help me get over you._ Because Jinhyuk is in love with Wooseok, or something like it. Something close enough for it to hurt, for Jinhyuk to seek temporary relief in the arms of someone else.

Has he ever given any indication that he likes Wooseok? He tries to replay their entire friendship in his head. Maybe there were some signs, the touches too frequent and tender to just be casual, the way Jinhyuk will drop everything and run to him at a moment’s notice, the lingering, wistful looks he gives Wooseok when he thinks Wooseok isn’t paying attention. But Wooseok always thought of those things as part of Jinhyuk’s personality. He gives himself freely to anyone and everyone.

 _Not the way he gives himself to me_ , Wooseok thinks, with startling clarity. 

Then he remembers all the times he’s told Jinhyuk he wouldn’t want to date him, the heartbreaks Jinhyuk’s held him through. The time Seungwoo’s honesty left him crushed and he’d tearfully begged Jinhyuk, _don’t ever do something like this to me. Not you. I couldn’t stand it if I lost you over—_

Seungwoo had been his friend once too, and now they never spoke. Things worked out like that sometimes, and while it’s not the end of the world now, it felt like that back then. Especially when he imagined the same thing happening with Jinhyuk. 

Jinhyuk had looked like a deer frozen in the headlights before he’d leaned over to wipe the tears from Wooseok’s cheeks, his touch light and careful. _Don’t worry_ , he said. _I’m not an idiot. I’ll always be here. I’ll always be your best friend._ His face had loomed close, but not in an uncomfortable way, and Wooseok found himself staring at the flecks of light brown in his eyes. Jinhyuk’s lips touched his forehead for a fraction of a second, and then he’d pulled away, his grin a little tight. _You can borrow my shoulder to cry on tonight, okay?_

 _Idiot_ , Wooseok said. He’d been grateful all the same. 

A dull ache spreads through his body at the memory. He lifts the can of beer to his mouth and closes his eyes. 

_Yeah._

He really should’ve figured it out sooner. 

* * *

He’s never done this before. 

Wooseok and feelings are tenuous friends. He acknowledges he has them in private, but in public, he’d be all too happy to pretend that he’s never felt a single day in his life. Jinhyuk used to tease him about this as often as he could, being one of the few people who knows Wooseok feels too much about any given subject. “You’re just a sensitive boy,” he’d say, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “And that’s okay! It’s okay to feel—”

“I will kill you,” Wooseok would reply impassively, and they’d hold each other’s gaze for a minute before breaking into wild laughter, and Jinhyuk’s fingers would touch Wooseok’s cheek tenderly, almost a caress. 

“Of course you feel things,” he’d say. “You care about me, right?” 

He never had to respond because—he does. It’s undeniable that he does. 

But Wooseok needs to put it into words. He can’t keep trusting Jinhyuk to hear the things he doesn’t say, especially when Jinhyuk’s trying to respect the things he _did_ say. Jinhyuk won’t respond to his texts, though, and none of their friends can tell Wooseok where he is. He tears through campus searching for Jinhyuk after his first class ends, heart lodged in his throat. 

It takes almost thirty minutes of searching to find him—behind the old arts building, sitting in the grass with a sports drink in his hand. Wooseok would laugh, but his lungs are burning from all the running. He bends over to rest his hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath, while Jinhyuk climbs to his feet and eyes him warily. “You—you okay?” He thrusts his unopened sports drink under Wooseok’s face. “Here.” 

Wooseok shakes his head. “No, I—” _Shit_. Annoyed at himself for not being in better shape, he takes the sports drink with a scowl and uncaps it. He can feel Jinhyuk’s eyes on him as he chugs it down, studying him like he’s a complicated puzzle he’s desperate to solve. When the bottle is half-empty, Wooseok passes it back to Jinhyuk and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks,” he says grudgingly. 

“No problem. You—” Jinhyuk breaks off and takes a deep breath, preparing himself to say something sacrificial, no doubt. _Don’t worry about what I said yesterday_ or _just forget about my feelings_ or _you don’t have to answer_ or _I’m fine_. 

Wooseok stops him first. “I need to say something, and I need you to just listen.” 

Jinhyuk swallows. “Okay,” he says roughly. “Okay.” He tenses, as if waiting for the final blow. 

Wooseok can do this. He can.

He wants to. 

“I really like you,” he says, and Jinhyuk’s jaw drops. “Please go out with me.” The words become easier to say the more he talks, like they’re desperate to burst free. “I promise I won’t break up with you after a week or a month or even three. I promise I’ll stay by your side and make you laugh and never let you feel lonely again.” His heart beats rapidly in his ears, and all he can see is Jinhyuk. “I want you now, and I’ll want you forever.” 

Jinhyuk still looks shaken, and his eyes dart around nervously as if waiting for someone to jump out of the bushes and yell, _surprise!_ “You’re not just saying this?” he asks weakly. 

“No.” Wooseok could never just say this. He presses a palm to his chest. His heart still hasn’t bothered to slow down. 

“You sure?” 

“Are you always so skeptical of other peoples’ feelings?” 

“Just yours.” Jinhyuk looks down at him, his eyes soft, then shakes his head. “No, not yours either.” He manages a crooked smile, the corners of his mouth trembling. “I know you.” And it’s strange how three words—and not even the cliche ones—can make Wooseok feel like he’s soaring, with no fear of when or how he’ll come down. “Do you want to go out with me, then?” 

The words are familiar, the slow grin unfurling on Jinhyuk’s face isn’t. It’s radiant, on par with the sun, and Wooseok takes a step forward, then another, until he’s fully drawn into Jinhyuk’s orbit. “Like you need to ask.” But as Jinhyuk’s mouth slants over his in a sweet kiss, he breathes out a _yes_ regardless.

* * *

"How long have you...?" Wooseok asks later, when they're squished on his battered couch together, Jinhyuk's fingers tangled in his hair.

Jinhyuk smiles like he has a secret he's not willing to share. "I don't know," he says. "How long have _you_?" 

Objectively, it's been a long time even if doesn't seem like it, but Wooseok frowns and thinks seriously before answering. Falling in love with Jinhyuk—it's hard to assign any quantifiable number or date to it. He feels like those emotions have always been there, just waiting to be discovered. "It feels like forever," he says finally. 

"Yeah." Jinhyuk leans over to steal a kiss, his eyes dancing. "I was going to say forever too."

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote half of this before i realized that i accidentally cannibalized some themes from a friend’s au for this fic, so if you’re looking to read a really good weishin social media au, [then boy do i have the thing for you](https://twitter.com/parkchamsae/status/1194688598211284992?s=21). it’s vastly superior to this fic so please give it some love! 
> 
> like i mentioned, i started this drabble to blow off some post-exam steam, but then it grew into... whatever this is, haha. i can't explain. thank you for reading anyway!


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